My Sister, Whom I Love
by Whitta Annuniel
Summary: A beautiful woman often comes with a beautiful mind. At the end of the war, the Fellowship and some others find themselves enchanted by a young elf and the adventure which follows her everywhere. How will her appearance change the course of history?


Disclaimer: I do not own Middle Earth, The Lord of the Rings, or the Sindarin and Quenyan languages. I do not gain any money from this dramatic work, only the pleasure of having completed something to share with the world.

Claimer: The character of Whitta Annuniel and the name Whitta are my property and discovery. She is very important to me and I am proud to have shaped her personality and appearance myself.

This story follows the second and third books' time lines but uses the movie as a guide for conversations. There is confusion in the time lines; for instance, the battle of the Homburg occurred (in the book)four days before Faramir took the hobbits to Henneth Annun (the cave behind the waterfall). The movie shortened the time line for dramatic effects, but I will keep to the original as well as I can. You may find conversations happen in the 'wrong' order several times. If you need any help understanding, I will be following the Time Line of Arda at Wikipedia. It's a much easier reference then an appendix because it's located on the computer and links to information about the places and people involved. So I can re commend it for most any of your needs. Also check out the Encyclopedia of Arda (online) for details into Middle Earth. Finally, Frodo will not be going to Osgiliath in this story, as that is not in the book and makes me mad when I think about it.

Elven Terms (Mostly Sindarin)

Man mathach? – How do you feel?

Manen nalye? – How are you? Quenyan

Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín! - May Elbereth protect you, may her stars shine on the path of your life!

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Legolas felt his heart beat as if it was estranged from him. A separate being, it contracted and expanded to the beat of Valar music. The process of dreaming for an elf led to great inner peace, even in the darkest of times, but for some reason he could not relax. The realms of dreams were lost to him. His only peace was his heart, and Legolas listened to it as one would ocean spray.

Slowly his irises lightened as his vision expanded. Blue stardust swirled and a bit of the stars fell into them. A woman entered his dream, standing on thin air in front of him. Legolas was standing on a small porch at the top of the stairs into the Fellowship's barracks. Then he was in a dark glade.

"Legolas, Thranduilion," she teased him. The stars were in her brown hair and in her hazel eyes the earth grew.

"Whitta, Annuniel," he responded in kind. Legolas was the only one who called her by that name. Whitta was a dark and forbidden name in Mirkwood. Mirkwood, o how he ached for it. The forest had been so beautiful as _Eryn Galen_, but she had never seen it that way. Having lived only a few hundred years, her first memories in the green wood were of _Dol Guldur_, the Watchful Peace, and the return of Sauron.

She came forward now and grasped his hands. "I have missed you so much." Her voice was rougher then Arwen's, but it was higher as well. It was like a chorus to one of the longest ballads, when your voice is tired but full of emotion so raw you can't stop.

"I have missed you as well. _ Man mathach_?" Whitta's health was precious to him. "Are you taking proper care of yourself?"

She shied away from the topic, and slipped her hands out of his. "_Manen nalye_?" She only used Quenyan when she was nervous, a habit picked up in a fearful time that they did not speak of. "You've been fighting for such a long time."

He had forgotten his wounds, but even here the pain of the last few months must cloud her vision of him. "I am fine. _Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín_!" He swept his hands outward, repeating her final words to him before he left Rivendell. Elbereth was not a woman to be mocked, but she would understand the mirth of wood-elves.

"I wanted Elbereth to watch over you no matter how far away you were from me." Legolas had been hoping for a happy reunion but her tone sobered him.

"I am never away from you," Legolas replied hastily, taking back her hand and pressing it to his face. "I will never leave you." Her fingers curled slightly, applying quiet pressure on his cheek.

"You will go into the Land of the Dead," Whitta told him, "under the mountain, and I will see you last out of all the fellowship if I see you again."

"Then all of the fellowship will have brought you glad tidings of my health before I have a chance. There will be nothing left for me to lay claim for."

"Lay claim on nothing. Come home to me with only the glory of the fellowship and I will be happy."

"I will return," he emphasized. "I do not fear death any more. I have changed."

"You have grown up." She took the hand away and wrapped both arms around him, clutching tightly. "My brother." Her warmness and kindness enveloped him, and he felt very sad and lonely.

"My sister, my dear Annuniel."

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Legolas returned to himself and instantly his mood changed. The stars were dark and heavy. A heavy veil had been drawn across the window to hide the sun's early morning glare, but there was no glare, only dawn. The veil was leaving a strange obscuring blot instead of easing the awaking of the world.

Aragorn, as if sensing his friend's fear, had come up beside him. "The stars are veiled," Legolas told his friend as his eyes were drawn into the darkness, "something stirs in the east..." He couldn't place the feeling that was welling up inside. "...a nameless malice."

Nausea swept over Legolas as the stars of dreaming left his eyes and he turned quickly to Aragorn. "The eye of the enemy is moving."

"Where is he going?" Aragorn gripped Legolas's shoulders. "Is Frodo in danger?"

"No, it is not that," Legolas told his friend, struggling to find the words under the pressure of the eye. It moved suddenly away to the left, as if an elf was the least of his worries.

Something drew it back and Legolas felt it piercing past him, through him, into the building. "He is here!"

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It was the next day, though Frodo had no knowledge of the Fellowship's plight, when Faramir met the young hobbit master and his gardener. It had come as a surprise to both of them, but to one member of Faramir's party, they had come as no surprise. The mouth that knew said nothing though, until all was clear on its own. As Frodo walked away with Gollum and Sam, it told Faramir "I knew there was nothing I needed to say."

Faramir turned to the elfling with surprise in his eyes. "You knew who they were and you didn't tell me."

"If I had, you would have taken them to Osgiliath, would you not?" Faramir pondered Annuniel's words.

"I think I may have." His face was so sad that for a moment she regretted not telling him. No matter what the stars had told her, she had hidden things from him, and he was the only man she knew besides the rangers who trusted elves as they once did, when the Green Wood was still green. "Why did you come here, then, lady of the west? Why must you come to Osgiliath?"

Their eyes met and she found she could hide nothing from him. She was shorter than him, though taller than a hobbit by far. Still she was just a child compared to the weathered man before her, in knowledge and in emotions. "I came mostly to see Frodo," she admitted slowly, "but I came also to preserve you."

"Me? What use do I have, to be preserved by ethereal beings? And why can I not preserve myself?" His face was more than a little haughty, and a little angry.

"I do not know," she hastened to say. "And before you ask I do not know how Boromir died. Though I do know he loved you, and he left Rivendell with only the thought of returning to protect Gondor by your side."

"Did he tell you this? Or did you probe his mind to find his secrets as you have done with other men?" His temper was rising.

"I do not read any minds! I only know what my Art can tell me!" They were both shouting now, and stopped for deep breaths. "I am sorry."

"I am as well." Boromir's death had been hard on him, and Faramir had never really understood elf magic, or art, or whatever it was called. But he was certain that Annuniel did not understand it either. She seemed awkward, childish, hiding from the hobbits and spending the night staring at the stars. "Come, if you still desire. We are marching for Osgiliath at any moment."

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"Faramir!" Annuniel called as her horse fell back alongside him. Her bow moved up quickly, proving she was her brother's sister, but the fell-beast would not fall no matter how many arrows she put into it.

"Thank you," Faramir had time to say breathlessly before bringing up his sword again. "You did preserve me after all." The fell-beast shrieked again. Though they were both becoming used to hearing it after the long battle at Osgiliath, one can only become so used to the sound of death. Annuniel's bow faltered and her last arrow flew past its mark as her brain came under pressure.

Faramir had to bring his sword up faster than he expected, and the blow hurt his shoulder as it fell. "We are lost."

"We are almost there." Annuniel pointed forward. The gates of the White City were opening. "Mithrandir! It is Mithrandir! I feared he was dead!" A bright light, a warm light, surrounded them, haloing and then expanding upwards.

The party rode through the gates of Minas Tirith safely. Though most of the men branched off and spread to fill the streets, Faramir and Annuniel hastened to Mithrandir's side. Annuniel's horse was separated from them for a while, though they had entered together.

When she reached Faramir's side again, she heard Mithrandir say "Tell me everything.," But her attention was not on him as she gasped with happy surprise.

"Pippin!" The young hobbit startled and turned.

"Lady Annuniel!" It was good to see her. Whenever she was around, the world seemed a little brighter, even at Rivendell when she was crying farewell. Annuniel had hugged him, and it was something very amazing to be hugged by an elf lady. Perhaps this was how Gimli had felt in Lothlorien, staring at the ethereal Galadriel. "How did you get here?"

"On my horse," Annuniel replied, laughing lightly. "How did you get here?"

"On Gandalf's horse," Pippin admitted.

"What are you doing here is perhaps the better question." Pippin looked up at Gandalf's face with astonishment. Gandalf only ever got that angry at him.

"That's my fault, Mithrandir," Faramir interjected. "She told me something about elf magic I didn't particularly understand and I let her join my service."

"And none of his men were very happy about it. They don't particularly care for elves." Annuniel said with a lyrical laugh.

"Not for a particular elf," Gandalf said slowly, "who is too young to know better than she is told."

"I was told nothing. The shadow of Dol Guldur is enough trouble for the king to deal with without me." Pippin saw her face fall..

"Faramir wants to talk to Gandalf, and the opposite," he said hastily. He craned his head around to look at Gandalf again. "Why don't Annuniel and I get out of your way for a while?"

"A good idea," Gandalf told him, "for there is much to talk about." Annuniel took Pippin easily from Shadowfax and placed him in front of her.

She rode off without a word to either man, her horse dancing between the crowds until they were free. Climbing the levels, Annuniel was silent.

"What's your horse's name?" Pippin asked to break the silence. Annuniel started.

"Oh! I'm sorry Pippin." She felt sad, as if her emotions were pressed tightly around him as a blanket. "His name is _Eryn Galen _for the green wood, the way Mirkwood was long before my birth."

"What happened to Mirkwood?" Pippin asked softly. "I mean, I know Bilbo's stories, about the spiders and the foul water. But how did it get that way?"

"Sauron came. At the time there were not even whispers of his return. But a nameless power grew, and darkness covered the forest." She was silent, and he wondered if he dared turn to look at her. "They called it the Necromancer, and most believed it was one of the Nazgul. They were all destroyed, at the great war at the end of the second age. With Sauron's original destruction they died, crumpling in on themselves. When they returned it was thought that it was simply because they were spirits. That they had been cursed by the Valar and Illuvatar to wander forever."

"Wait," Pippin told her, "I've heard that name before. Who is Illuvatar?"

Annuniel laughed, and her sadness lifted. "A hobbit may not have heard of him. I did not realize it. Eru Illuvatar is the creator of everything in this world."

"Everything…," Pippin mused. "Does that include Orcs?"

"Pippin, dear one, there is so much that you don't know, that I cannot help but love you."

"What does that mean?" He felt more than a little bruised by her words.

"There were Ainur, spirits who helped Illuvatar and took care of daily business as it were," he knew she was simplifying for his sake, "one of which was Morgoth. Morgoth wanted more. It was always more and more and more. He wanted the Secret Fire that could give the created peoples life. It is the spark that makes you breathe and think on your own, the thing that keeps you from being a puppet with strings."

"What did he do, and what does it have to do with orcs?" Pippin was interested but he wanted to get to the depth of the story.

"Morgoth rebelled against Illuvatar. Many weak willed Ainur followed him. He came to our world calling himself Melkor. Then he began to change it. Extreme cold and heat battered the earth and the light fell out of the sky. When the Valar attacked, he captured many of them and warped them. He could not create elves, so he tortured them and twisted their natures—"

"Orcs are elves?" Pippin exclaimed. "How can that be? And how can you be sure that this story is true if it happened so long ago as you say?"

"Gandalf is real, is he not? Even I cannot tell you how old he is, but he is a servant of the Secret Flame, and Illuvatar, sent to help Middle Earth in its woeful time."

"Is he now? You certainly know how to make a hobbit think! Will you tell me more?"

"In a while," she told him. "Faramir will be greeting the Steward soon, and both of us should be there." Annuniel slid down with a grunt, and Pippin realized where they were. The gates of the House of Healing stood open welcomingly, but Pippin did not feel comforted. "Though I do not think he likes elves, I shall go any way."

"Are you injured?" Pippin spun in the saddle to meet her face. It was pale, but still lively.

"Not so badly as you think dear hobbit. I am merely in need of bandages, which is rather good for fighting Nazgul, don't you agree?" She grunted as she pulled him down from the saddle. "We don't need to worry about _Eryn Galen_, she'll find Faramir's horse and stable with him. I think she's in love."

Annuniel tripped as they went through the gate. Pippin grabbed and noticed finally that her chain mail was dirty and torn. There was blood in her hair that did not appear to be her own, and she held her arm tightly to her side. "You are injured! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I am not so disposable, master hobbit," she told him, but leaned on him as they walked through the healing house. "I am wearing mithril, better then Bilbo's, if that story was true. The main trouble of it is bruising."

"It is true, Frodo has it! He got skewered by a boar spear and was bruised something terrible as well." Annuniel laughed and drew the attention of several healers when she wheezed and coughed afterwards.

"Of course he did have it, Bilbo that dear old hobbit. He never did trust anyone completely except Aragorn, and even he didn't know everything. Go run along now," she told him as a healer supported her, "and tell Faramir where he can find me. And tell him not to go to Denethor until I am done here, or at least not without Mithrandir."

"Why?" Pippin had met the man and had no desire to refute her judgment, but he thought he should know at least that much.

"Denethor loved Boromir, Pippin. Now you must not repeat this," she said, shrugging away the healer and bending slowly to his height. Then Annuniel whispered. This shocked Pippin more than anything, for he had never seen an elf whisper before. "Denethor loved Boromir more than he ever did Faramir. He will twist this into Faramir's fault somehow. Faramir could have brought him the ring, Pippin, but in the end he didn't. In the end he let them go on into Mordor and perhaps doomed Osgiliath. If Denethor discovers this, Faramir's life will be forfeit. And he will discover it, make no doubt. Denethor would not send any party out without a spy of some kind.

"Make sure you say nothing," she told him, causing his face to go pale. "And let Faramir say nothing if you can stop him.

"Now go!" she said in a normal tone, standing too quickly and being supported again. "Go already and find Mithrandir!"

Pippin left without a backwards glance. His brain was churning with the overload of information that had been placed within it. As he came out of the great healing hall, he saw that Annuniel's mare remained where she had been left. "You are a very smart horse," Pippin told Eryn Galen, "but I am not tall enough to ride you. Do you know where Faramir is, or at least his horse? Annuniel said you would."

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